“Who gave you these directions?” Micah growled. “Who did you talk to? You’ve not left Gray Lady in the past few days. There are no libraries or speakers here, and the copp—” Micah looked over at Bird and Shiloh. “The clans don’t know this kind of history.”

“Will you let up, Micah?” Mordra said, exasperated. “Alister has made it plain he’s not going to tell you, and the rest of us are tired of hearing about it.”

Micah subsided, but he kept his hand on his amulet and his eyes on Han. By now Han guessed they were leaving the higher ground behind and were walking under the Vale. He’d estimated it would be several miles of walking, even if the tunnels ran in a straight line.

“This way,” he said, turning down a side corridor and nearly smacking into a rock face.

“Perhaps you should verify your directions with your source again,” Micah said dryly. “We will wait here.”

Disappointment ignited inside Han. Was this it? Was this where the tunnel had been closed off a thousand years ago? He extended his hands, lighting the wall with flash. It appeared to be a natural stone wall, not something constructed by humankind.

He thrust out his hand, meaning to give the wall a hard push, then staggered forward and nearly fell when his hand passed right through. The wall was an illusion, though there was no evidence of a magical overlay.

Han was reminded once again that Crow had forgotten more about magic than Han would ever know. He looked deliberately back at Micah, cocking up his chin, then walked forward, through the wall. The others followed.

There were no more magical barricades along the way. The tunnels on this side of the turnoff to Hanalea had an abandoned feel—as if no one had passed this way in a thousand years. The corridor arrowed before them, level and straight, the shortest distance between two points. What kind of love would drive a man for miles through solid rock?

Acutely conscious of the events hurtling forward above their heads, they maintained a killing pace, eating and drinking while they walked. Eventually, the stone floor sloped upward. Han hoped this meant they were nearing their destination.

The tunnel’s end was abrupt and anticlimactic. Suddenly, they were no longer walking on solid stone, but stone and masonry. Then their path dead-ended against another apparently solid castle wall.

Han extended his hand. As before, it slid through. Shutting his eyes, he walked forward into a narrow, dark tunnel with a ceiling so low he had to bend nearly double to continue.

Blessedly, it wasn’t long before it exited into a small circular room. A metal staircase extended up one side, a solid-looking wooden panel faced the other.

Han looked around. Crow had said that the tunnel led to the queen’s bedchamber, and this clearly wasn’t it.